Human Radiation
by ianii
Summary: Collection of drabbles around Allen and Rhode and their odd relationship, or lack thereof. You decide if they are connected, separate, or even realistic. Probably not.
1. Human Radiation

**Human Radiation**

(kind of creepy, ain't it?)

* * *

He still felt the contact. The warmth. He had never before held the feeling of it in such low regard.

"I feel warm, don't I?"

"This is the feeling you get when one human touches another, isn't it?"

The sensation of her arms encircling his shoulders still lingered, as did the knowledge that these arms resembled snakes (they twisted and choked, suffocated) closing in, and yet at the same time, he felt that human _warmth_.

"Allen?" Linali touched his forehead, timidly checking for a fever.

He flinched away from her fingertips (they were warm), apologizing as he realized his folly. "Sorry, it's nothing."

She wasn't convinced, but let it drop.

Allen remembered these conflicting natures, and he remembered her words to him, sadism intermingled with some strange breed of regret.

"You're so kind, Allen."


	2. Sunkiss

A/N: I came up with another drabble for this rather underground pairing, and figured it's kind of pointless to make a whole 'nother story, so this will now be a collection of AllenxRhode drabbles. Perhaps if I have any others, I'll put them here as well. Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**

Sunkiss

Dark hands glide over pale, sallow skin, embroidering designs with fingertips and sensations. There is something impeccable in this. It is something like stomping your boot-encased feet in virgin snow, caught up in a childish fit of destroying that which is pure. Nerve endings sizzle and hairs raise; the tracery is starting to get far more detailed. 

"You should get out in the sun more, Allen." A nail pinches a sensitive inch of skin, the victim hisses out of pain or pleasure. "But I suppose it's not really your fault."

When had it gotten to be like this? Covert meetings and veiled looks on both parties' sides seemed, for all appearances, to be easy enough to conceal. There certainly didn't seem to be a weakening sense of purpose. So when did this thing begin? There wasn't necessarily a time (minutes and days run together like watercolors, bleeding out of the lines of everyday life in dripping hues of black and white), so the seduction was that of unbridled indulgence in the forbidden, the prohibited, the taboo. It was that of unbridled indulgence in _betrayal_. The action of it left a taste in their mouths incomparable to that of lollipops or heaps of food.

"It must be this London weather," She drags one nail down his chest and he shudders, but at the same time her toes are writhing with anticipation. She is the only one of the two with balls enough to create taunting half-conversation.

He tugs at her striped stockings with one hand in reply, using the other to heft himself up and latch his mouth on her shoulder. Blood pounding in his ears blocks out an approving noise, but he can feel its vibrations on his face. There was something about that flavor, wasn't there? A bell rings in his head, and he places his finger on the word.

Ambrosial. Betrayal tasted ambrosial.


	3. Life of Domesticity

This is the worst thing I have ever written, morally speaking. So much crack you'll have to go to the hospital. Enjoy.

**

* * *

**

Life of Domesticity

"No."

"Do it."

"I can't…!"

"Here."

"But it's-"

"It's what?" She took this moment of caution as an advantage to shove the funny little creature in his arms.

Several seconds passed. She busied herself with something nearby, leaving him to fend for himself against the thing.

"…This is my son." He said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Mmm." She broke a glass in the sink. "Are you surprised?"

"What?"

"That he looks normal." After a pause, she explained it herself. "It seems like something you'd be worried about."

His face convulsed for only a split second: he had been learning to keep a handle of his facial expressions. However, it was too late. The look confirmed her almost fool-proof suspicions. The baby stared back at him with a squirk in is eye and a wisp of red hair. It giggled, looking for all the world to be Rabi as an infant.

"I didn't…" Allen faltered, then started over. "We're not normal ourselves, you know."

"So you assume he'd be a monster? How cute."

"No… Just, it's normal."

"Oh, I didn't say he was normal." She gives him a jack-o-lantern grin, then gets up to leave. "I'm going to take a shower. Watch he doesn't eat your arms, dear."

He made to deposit the child back to its mother, but she was already gone.

"Hungry!"

"You can speak already?"

"Eat!"

"…Let's call Uncle Kanda."


End file.
